Page 30 of Stolen

Having clothes and shoes really did make a difference when it came to defending yourself. Somehow, I had a feeling I would have to learn to do so without them. He smirked at my answer. Hopefully, he appreciated my honesty.

“God, I love your spirit,” he said, pressing his mouth against my temple. “It’s really too bad I have to break it.”

That was when he headed back toward the dresser and grabbed a small stool from the corner. Placing it at my feet, he instructed me to stand on it. I looked at him confused and exhausted as there was no way I could even lift my legs at this point. There was enough slack in the chains as I tried to obey, but I had no strength left to raise them. Impatient with my struggle, he rolled his eyes and lifted my hips with ease and placed me on top of the stool. It gave me an extra six inches, but the fucker could still see clearly over my head.

It was then that I noticed the huge bulge in his pants as he returned to his position behind me and unzipped his pants.

“Just making good on my promise.” He smiled. “And I have to say, I am very pleased to hear you’ve been approved for action.”

The sudden understanding of what was about to happen caused me to surge in my restraints as I struggled and pulled against the chains, but they kept me firmly in place.

No…not again…

I should have seen that coming, should have known there was a chance all along, but I thought since it hadn’t worked last time, he’d have to up his game. And he did, but now I didn’t want to play anymore. The game of “Pride” was over.

“No! Don’t!” I shrieked, but it was barely audible.

“The more you struggle, the harder it makes me,” he warned.

He positioned himself behind me, his fingers tracing a line of zigzags down my back and sending fierce little aches through my skin. I couldn’t contain my fear as it consumed my entire body, and I whimpered silently as another rainfall of tears came spilling down my face.

“Please, don’t,” I found myself begging for the first time, shaking with fear and regret. “I’ll give you what you want.”

It was stupid, but I couldn’t withstand even the thought of him being inside me again. If submitting was what it took to prevent it, then fine. I knew I was going to caveat some point, anyway. I had my limits, and I wasn’t willing to surpass them. I just wanted him to know it wouldn’t be easy for him and that I could handle more than he thought. I don’t know why I felt the need to prove myself to him, but the thought of being seen as weak or feeble was far too deep a wound to bear.

But these were only words he wanted me to say anyway. I didn’t have to mean them for shit. And I wouldn’t.

“Oh, I know you will,” he sneered into my ear, running a fingertip down my cheek, “right after I’m done taking it from you.”

I felt my heart stop.

“No! Don’t! You don’t—”

“Eyes on the mirror, sweetheart,” he said, cutting me off. “If, for any reason, I see your eyes leave mine, then I’ll take that cane and fuck your ass with it until your blood covers my hands. Understand?”

I was silent then, unable to form words as more tears burned down my face. This was my fault. This was what I got for prolonging the inevitable. I just made it worse for myself. He was right. I was such a stupid,stupidlittle girl. And now he was going to make me watch him fuck me.

Even though I said I would give him my stupid submission, it didn’t matter. He was going to take and take until there was nothing left to give—until I was nothing left but a shell of a woman whose only purpose was to fuck and be fucked.

Except he wasn’t the only one who could take. He could take away my freedom and my life, but I could take something away from him as well. I could take away his ability to affect me. I could take away all his power if I showed him that no matter what he did, whether it was days later or years later, I would eventually get back up and stand. It wasn’t just physical domination with him; it was mental. He didn’t just want my body to break; he wanted my mind as well. My body he might win, but my mind would remain stronger than ever. He would never win that war.Never.

And with that, his hands gripped my hips, and he slammed into me. I clenched my jaw at the pain, holding tight to the distorted reflection in the mirror. The beast behind me grunted in total satisfaction, holding himself still for a few seconds before thrusting into me hard and slow, giving me zero time to adjust.

“God, this tight little pussy of yours,” he said against my ear. “It’s even better than the first time.”

Twisted, psychotic motherfucker.

“Scream for me,” he whispered, taking my nipples between his fingers and twisting them roughly. I cried out as an electric current of pain twisted away as he tweaked and pulled. “That’s my girl,” he crooned.

I allowed my tears to blur my vision just enough so that the only thing visible was a watery reflection of two people I couldn’t comprehend. I could feel him getting ready to finish as his body tensed up, my core suddenly flooding with a liquid heat that made me feel poisoned inside.

I could feel his lips at my ear, his teeth nibbling my skin.

“That was perfect,” he whispered, his eyes capturing mine in the mirror and all I could do was shudder.

When he finally pulled out, my pussy could not even enjoy the release as it pulsed with a pain that was probably equivalent to being fist fucked with an iron glove. Every single nerve ending in my body was on fire, and all I could do was pant and cry until it was finally over.

He left me there to stare at my hideous reflection as he headed into the bathroom to wash up. I could feel the slow trickle of his cum begin to ooze out of me and slide down the inside of my leg. I felt disgusting and vile as I tried to expel every last drop of him from me, but the torment of it never wavered in its slow, agonizing seepage.

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